


Nowhere Else I Need To Be

by helens78



Category: Superman Returns (2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-25
Updated: 2006-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark's been gone for eight weeks, Superman hasn't been seen for almost two.  But Richard White's around, and Lois's friends at the office talk her into going out one Friday night...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nowhere Else I Need To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Happens pre-_Superman Returns_, about two months after the events of _Superman II_.

"Clark, would you hand me that stapler?" Lois asks, and it isn't until she catches Jimmy giving her a strange look that she realizes something's the matter. She looks over at Clark's desk--

\--and he's not there.

That's crazy. Clark's always there.

"Uh, Lois?" Jimmy says softly, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. "Clark's been gone for eight weeks now. On sabbatical. Remember?"

"Oh," Lois says, meaning no, and she bites her lower lip. "You got a stapler over there?"

Eight weeks. She mulls that over while she's walking out of the _Planet_ building. Superman's been gone for two weeks himself, but she noticed _that_ right away. It's not quite two weeks, in fact -- today's Friday, so it's been one week, five days, and a few hours since the last official Superman sighting. He'd been putting out a fire on 37th Street. She didn't bother to run him down for an interview; she figured she'd just catch him later.

"How much later?" she grumbles to herself. She stretches a hand out and hails a cab. Mercifully, it doesn't take long to catch one, and she settles back with her purse and her briefcase as soon as she's given the cabbie directions. "You could've left a note." She says that under her breath, too, but this time it's with the hope that maybe he's listening in.

He's not, though. Not as far as anyone can tell. He's been gone almost two weeks, and nothing's gotten his attention. Not the bank robbery on the ninth, the subway accident on the eleventh, or the car chase on the turnpike that happened on the thirteenth. At this point, she's got a feeling people are going to start staging "accidents" just to see if he shows up.

She ought to know. She's been tempted.

But Clark... Clark's missing, too... right when Superman's gone...

_No_, she decides. _C'mon, we settled that in Niagara Falls. He might have the height, and maybe if you got him out of those clothes he'd have the build, but there's nothing "super" about Clark. Niagara Falls... man, I wish I remembered more about that. Post-traumatic shock from the fall, memory loss -- what a stupid thing to do! What's the point of risking your life for a story if you don't remember well enough to write about it later?_

Still, Clark missing, Superman missing -- it's one hell of a coincidence. And she shoves it out of her mind as she gets home.

Her answering machine's blinking as she lets herself in. She starts the messages going as she changes out of work clothes.

"Lois, this is Dana from the office. Listen, you've got to come back uptown, there's a bunch of us going out, and the new guy's here. You know -- White. Richard White, Perry's nephew?" Dana's voice drops to a hiss. "Lo, he is _gorgeous_, you have _got_ to meet him. C'mon. You can't wait on You-Know-Who forever..."

Lois rolls her eyes. "I'm not waiting on him," she yells over her shoulder, as if the answering machine can call Dana back to let her know. "I'm just..."

A week and five days and a scattered number of hours since the last sighting. But she hasn't seen him in longer than that, not since he saved that kid at Niagara Falls, and he didn't even say goodbye. Or hello.

Jerk.

She gives her closet another look. "Okay, Lane," she mutters, "you're not a teenager anymore, and it's better than waiting by the phone. Or on the patio."

That's what she's been doing. She makes excuses to work out there on her manual typewriter, or read out there, watching the skyline, and every night she's been hoping this'll be it. He'll come back, and he'll say, "Hey, Lois, come out flying with me." He'll take her on another trip, and this time he'll come in. He'll strip off those longjohns and spend the night with her, and... right. More than two months, and he didn't even say hi the last time they saw each other?

She stops in front of the mirror by the front door and gives herself that last critical once-over. "You're pathetic, Lane," she says quietly. "It's _over_."

And if she doesn't believe it when she says it sober, she believes it a little more after three drinks. Dana was right; Richard _is_ gorgeous. Not movie-star impressive, maybe, and he's not even six feet tall, but not everybody has to be 6'4", 225 pounds, and built like a Greek God. Richard seems like a nice guy. A normal guy.

A guy who matches her drink-for-drink, grinning at her all night long. His eyes aren't the right shade of blue, but they're good enough. They're good enough to keep her dancing until nearly four in the morning -- what the hell, right, it's Friday night -- and then they're good enough to...

Her head's aching when she wakes up, and she flings her arm over her eyes so the light won't stab past her eyelids and try to kill her. She whimpers, and then there's a pressure on the side of the bed that makes her sit up in panic. Then hope.

_It's him he's back and Jesus Christ I'm hung over--_

But when she manages to focus, it's not Superman. It's Richard. And he's holding out aspirin and a glass of water.

"Bless you," she says, taking the aspirin and the water and settling back into bed. Her voice is barely more than a growl, but he seems to understand. He grins at her.

"Are you okay?" he asks -- oh, thank God, he knows to be quiet at a time like this. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, I--" Her eyes go wide, and she puts a hand over her mouth. She bolts for the bathroom and throws up, heaving 'til there's nothing left, and when it's over, she rinses her mouth out and flushes, wishing she had six hands so she could do everything at once. She stays hunched over the sink for a few minutes, hoping the nausea won't come back.

What does come back is Richard. "C'mon," he murmurs, putting his hands lightly on her shoulders. "Let's get you back in bed..."

"Richard, no--" Her tongue feels too thick for her mouth, now, and her voice sounds muffled. At least to her it does. "I'm okay," she whispers. He's guiding her back to bed anyway, though, and being back under the sheets feels pretty good. "You don't have to stay," she says, squinting up at him.

"Of course I'll stay," he says. Then he grins, and it's so big and broad she can't help grinning back, even though it makes her eyes hurt some. "I mean, sure, I could be helping old ladies across the street or finding lost dogs, but this counts for the merit badge, too, and anyway..." He squeezes her hand. "There's nowhere else I need to be."

She blinks a few times when she hears that, but she keeps smiling.

_-end-_


End file.
